


Heat finds a way to rise somehow

by thought



Series: All your dead unfinished selves [1]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alternate universe - canon divergent, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 09:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13760802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thought/pseuds/thought
Summary: Rachel Young offers Isabel Lovelace a job.She's not the only one.





	Heat finds a way to rise somehow

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in a series of scenes set in a universe where Lovelace joins Goddard Strategic Intelligence in 2010 instead of going to space, and she and Eiffel join Kepler's team in 2013. Fics may be out of order in the timeline but we'll include the year at the top so you can keep track.  
> Title from [5 Out of 6](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6Yxhugmvj8)

2010

 

"Captain,” Rachel Young says, condescendingly amused. "We're not sending you to Greensboro."

Isabel Lovelace, feeling like she's playing dress up in her civilian dress clothes and still hooked up to the polygraph, says "Then where..." but Young's cell phone starts buzzing aggressively on the desk and she cuts herself off.

Young stares down at it and Lovelace watches the expression on her face and realizes, very calmly, that this woman is not at all what she seems. She’s suddenly keenly aware of the single exit — automatic door, probably easily locked remotely — no windows.

"Excuse me for just one minute," Young says, snatching her phone up. "I have to go drown my colleague in a vat of chai and take over his department, I'll be right back."

"Sure," says Lovelace. "Good luck with that."

Young shoves her way out the door, and the soft hum of hydraulics closes it gently behind her. Lovelace stares across the desk at the bland landscape photo on the wall and listens to the steady ticking of a clock she can't see. If she were to disappear here no one would miss her for at least a week. Her parents won’t be expecting a call until Sunday, and she’d lost most of her friends right along with her military career.

No. Not lost, she reminds herself. Left. You chose this.

Three minutes later the door swings back open, but it's not Young who enters. The man who strides in is tall, dressed in a manner reminiscent of the military but not actually any kind of uniform. There's a dusting of grey at his temples but his face is young-- maybe only a couple years older than Lovelace, possibly younger. She's never been great with ages.

"Oh," he says. "I didn't know they were interviewing today. My apologies."

Lovelace shrugs. "You weren't interrupting much, as you can see."

"Mmhm." He's staring down at his phone, typing something carefully out with the tip of his right index finger, then opening his briefcase (away from Lovelace) and snapping a photo of something inside.

The phone rings in his hand as he's closing and locking the briefcase. "No," he says, as soon as he picks up. Then, "I am about... to leave the building. I am, in fact, about to leave the country. So the answer will continue to be "no" for the foreseeable future, are we clear?"

He doesn't wait to find out if they are, in fact, clear, snapping the phone shut and dropping it into an outer pocket on the side of the briefcase.

He straightens his jacket, turns toward the door. Lovelace wiggles her fingers in a wave. "Good luck with... that."

"Mmhm," he says. "And good luck with your doubtless fascinating future career in..."

"Greensboro," Lovelace provides.

He pauses. "...Greensboro," he says, dragging out the word like he's hearing it for the first time. "You're being interviewed for... Greensboro."

"Well, that's what it said on the job posting," she says. "Ms. Young was saying the posting might wind up being different than advertised."

The man turns back to her, lowering the briefcase back to the desk. "Rachel Young is doing your interview?"

"Yep," she says, deliberately casual.

"Your interview... for Greensboro."

"Or whatever."

"Well," he says. "That sounds... promising." He slides the chair across the table out and sits down, leaning back like he's suddenly got all the time in the world. "Well, I happen to know that Ms. Young is going to be a little busy for the next few minutes, and I would hate to keep you waiting. So why don’t I just. Take over for her."

Lovelace frowns. "I'm not sure--"

He holds out a hand. "Major Warren Kepler. I handle… security here at Goddard."

Lovelace shakes his hand. It's clearly a challenge, just like it had been with Young. "Isabel Lovelace. Which you already know." She jerks her head toward the filefolder that Young had left on the table.

Kepler picks it up, skims through the information inside. "Hmm," he says. "Yes, I can see why Young wanted you."

"Thanks?"

"Captain Lovelace," he says. "I see that your time in the air force was split fairly evenly between active combat and Airfield Operations. That's an... interesting mix."

She shrugs. "I enlisted because I wanted to work on the planes. After a while I realized I was pretty good with the people in them, too."

"So Command track."

"Uh huh."

"And... during your time in command, did you ever find it necessary... to pursue a course of action which others may find... unpalatable?"

She blinks. Once. "If you mean 'have I killed anyone?', yes. You don't exactly join the military expecting rainbows and flower crowns, Major Kepler."

"Mmhm. You'd be surprised," he says, dryly. "And I see here you have, at times, felt that you had a better understanding of a situation than your superiors. And chosen... to... act. accordingly."

"Yeeeep. But I have to say, I may not be interviewing for Greensboro, but I'm also not interviewing for a spot on Broadway. So if you're done with whatever this little... performance is supposed to be, either ask your questions or let me wait for Ms. Young in peace."

Kepler sits forward, his lips curling into a tiny smirk. "You inspire loyalty in those who serve under you. You're comfortable with the unpleasant realities of war. Ms. Young is going to make you an offer that sounds too good to be true, and I suggest you think seriously on why that might be."

"Look," she says, exhaling. She’s known men like this before. The sort who think couching the realities of war in charming vagary and leading questions will lull their audience into a false sense of security. In her experience, a person can’t talk about combat in plain terms either because they don’t want anyone to realize how frightened they are, or they don’t want anyone to realize how frightening they are. Kepler moves like a predator. It’s not difficult to figure out which category he falls under. "Are you going to offer me a job or not? Corporate security isn't really where I saw myself at 30 but, hey, there're worse possibilities."

Kepler inclines his head. "You'll get your own team. You can even pick them yourself from within the department. You'll be working primarily within the States, but there will be some variety in your missions. I trust that you will find the work... challenging. And with a much lower mortality rate than the offer Ms. Young intends to make you."

"Sounds like a bit more than security work.”

“Security can mean a great many things,” he says, and then, at her unimpressed look, “It _is_ primarily paramilitary work, but there’s an aspect of intelligence gathering and analysis as well.”

“Corporate espionage.”

“Captain, that would be illegal.”

“Of course. My mistake.”

“You would be working within the Strategic Intelligence division,” he says, pointedly. “Which covers a variety of areas including company security detail, market research, issues management, and advisory support to the CEO.”

“And other duties as assigned, right?” she snorts. “So how much trouble are you going to get into for telling me all of this?"

He reaches over, shuts down the lie detector. "You want to accept my offer, Captain Lovelace," he says. "Because let me assure you, you are not as important as my schedule for the week. And a disciplinary meeting would interfere with that schedule."

"If you're trying to establish a rapport you're really not doing a great job."

"I really don't care if you like me, Lovelace. I just think it'd be nice to have you in my department."

"Your recruitment pitch could use some work," she says, detaching herself from the lie detector. "What's to stop me turning on you at the earliest opportunity?"

"You're bored," he says. "and you're sick of working for stupid people. Sick of bureaucratic red tape putting your people in danger. Sick of fighting wars that never seem to make a difference in the end."

She holds his gaze. "And you can offer me something better?"

"I can. Goddard can. You already want to work here, or you wouldn't be in this room. Hell, at this point you may as well be hired," he grins suddenly. "All of this is just Young playing with her food."

"And what do you call what you're doing?"

"Rescuing a potential operative from a future of mediocrity."

She exhales. "I want to hear Ms. Young's offer first. Usually people in the same company don't try to poach from each other."

Kepler stands up. "Captain, allow me to be frank. Ms. Young intends to offer you a position in one of our R and D labs as a field testing supervisor For experimental small ordinance. You'd be a glorified babysitter and regularly run the risk of being blown up by a weapon that no one outside of the department would ever even know existed. You will live and die without having made a single difference to anyone. Within SI, you will be given a high degree of autonomy. The information you provide, the missions you complete, will have a direct impact on the future vision and direction of the company. One of Goddard Futuristics' core values is to foster innovation, both in regards to technology and our employees. Some departments take this more seriously than others."

Lovelace watches him steadily, still sitting. "You really don't want me to take her offer, do you?"

"I really don't," he says, and it's probably the most truthful thing he's said in their whole meeting. strange. "Now. Should I ask HR to draw up a contract or should I have my assistant kill you on your way out?"

She arches an eyebrow.

"That was a joke, Captain," he says, bordering on condescending.

"Your delivery could use some work."

For a fraction of a second she thinks he actually looks offended. "That's not an answer."

She makes him wait a good twenty seconds, counting off the soft ticking of the clock. Just before she estimates he's about to open the door to push her into a choice, she says, "All right."

He smiles at her. His teeth are unnaturally white, and there's a small scar on his upper lip. "So glad to hear it, Captain. Welcome on board."


End file.
